


stay best dressed

by song_of_staying



Series: Four Times Kanaya Took Care Of A Strilonde's Mommy Kink (And One Time She Took Care Of Her Own) [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gender Play, Minor Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Minor Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Mommy Kink, Multi, Obedience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 18:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_staying/pseuds/song_of_staying
Summary: Kanaya and Dave share a particular fascination.





	stay best dressed

Feelings Jam Log - EXCERPT  
The Sunroom  
Rose and Kanaya’s Lovely House

I Also Do Not Understand Your Shared Dedication To Upholding That Ancient Incest Joke

RIGHT? WHY DOES THIS PERSIST WHEN YOU DROPPED THE LOLHOMO JOKES YEARS AGO.

DAVE DID, I MEAN. DID ROSE EVER MAKE LOLHOMO JOKES?

It Is Difficult To Tell

At Certain Times Every Word Rose Spoke Was Preceded By The Faint Lilac Silhouette Of A Lol

lol

When we decided to merge our marital piles, I did not expect this double assault on my dignity.

THAT’S BECAUSE YOU NEVER THINK THESE THINGS THROUGH.

yeah rose its not a real jam until someone cries

As the piemaker said to the bishop.

The Crux Of The Matter Is Do You Feel Genuine Discomfort About Sharing A Pile With Your Sibling

Or Are You Both Stuck In A Sad Seednibbler Wheel Of A Joke That Has Worn Out Its Usefulness

Are those the only options available?

Yes

I will confess to the occasional twang of reticence. Incest jokes are a convenient social lubricant between us, easier to access and control than most other such aids.

wow 

Yet You Need No Lubrication When Talking To Me Or To Karkat

I believe that is less to do with my genetic link with Dave, and more to do with alarm at the thought of indiscriminate emotional openness with the man I most dearly love... to make fun of, a habit so well-ingrained it is integral to my sense of self. 

YOU’RE JUST A LITTLE BLACK FOR HIM.

No.

YES.

No.

YES. I’VE BEEN THERE, I’VE DONE THAT, I DIPPED MY HEART IN TAR AND MY DIAMOND IN COALDUST.

jesus karkat

While that is a beautiful sentence that I might have to monetize, or at least embroider onto something, I don’t believe a quadrant framework would be useful to conceptualize this particular personal hangup.

WHY NOT?

Well, because it is your cultural concept, not ours. But this does make me curious - have either of you felt any insecurity over piling with the people who are primarily your matesprits? 

No

YES, BUT I GOT OVER IT.

I Understood From Almost The Moment I Met Rose That If Everything Went According To Plan I Would Have To Pap Where I Slap

This Was Clear Even Before I Understood I Wanted To Fuck You As Well Darling

YEAH. QUADRANT SMEARING IS A SHARED VICE AMONG THOSE OF US WHO HAVE HAD TO ENDURE PROLONGED CONTACT WITH HUMANS.

aw

Aw.

I Saw Terezi Sitting In John’s Lap Last Week

OH MY GOD, I KNOW! THEY DIDN’T EVEN PRETEND TO GLARE AT EACH OTHER.

scandalous

SHUSH, YOU. YOU NEVER ANSWERED KANAYA’S QUESTION.

what 

oh

yeah

nah

intimacy is terrifying

sharing a cuddle and psychinterrogation pile with my sister is not

probably because ive been doing it since forever

besides its all completely pale 

pale like a stepford moms elegant pearl necklace

My mother had one of those.

i thought she used to rock scarves

Indeed. And beneath every scarf, a tasteful string of pearls lay hidden. She used to chew on them. 

huh

my bro sometimes wore chains ironically

with a cock-shaped silicone pendant 

That man was even more embarrassing than he was vile.

i know right

but i gotta say i like this mental image of your mom gnawing on her delicate fuck-you jewelry

all scarlet snarl and then crunch

Very evocative, Dave. I don’t believe I ever mentioned her wearing scarlet lipstick.

i extrapolated

Do you extrapolate about my mother often?

see

that

that is why your wife wonders about us

Actually I Am Mostly Wondering Whether You Spend A Lot Of Time Thinking About Roses Mothers Sartorial Choices

Because I Do

oh my god

* * *

Dave had been told enough to expect something to happen tonight, but he knew none of the specifics of Kanaya’s plan. It added a tension to his chatter, and he tracked her every movement carefully. Kanaya didn’t want to pile with him, yet, so she stayed sitting on the windowsill. She watched him curl up on her sofa, like an anxious cat. He was wearing one of Karkat’s hoodies, dark green, almost true jade. His heartbeat was difficult to ignore.

“So, you need my help, huh,” he said, gulping down the last of his tea. It was apple-cinnamon, all a part of the plan. “What, did you fall behind on some project? Need me to make you more time?”

“A generous offer, but no. My projects are all doing quite well. All I need is a model for a new dress I am working on.”

“A model.” His deadpan was impeccable. “You sure I’ve got the talent for it?”

“The only talent you need is standing still, and I know you can do that. You will not even have to shut up. ”

He quirked his lips. “Nice.”

“Normally I would ask Rose, but she is, for once, too lanky for my purposes. I need someone short and pretty.”

Dave’s cheek were too dark to show any blushing, but Kanaya had an unceasing awareness of how blood ebbed and flowed. He was responding; she had clearly taken the right approach.

He stood up, hands firmly in his pockets, and he slouched even more deliberately than usual.

She lead him to her work room, his shoulder taut beneath her palm.

He breathed in sharply when she showed him the dress. Yes, Kanaya was _very_ good at this part, at least.

“Undress, please,” she told him.

“Right.”

He took the hoodie off, and folded it exactly the way Karkat would have done. She nodded, indicating that his undershirt would have to go, too. He plunged on, unzipping his jeans and keeping his head down, but he stopped before pulling them down.

“Are my hairy chicken legs gonna be a problem?”

“No, not a problem.”

“Right.”

She hummed, turned to the side without giving him complete privacy.

“Do you like the dress?” she asked, a little for his benefit and a little for her her own.

“Yeah. The color’s really nice, it’s -”

“Forest green, to match our own forest.” 

“Right,” he said again. The dress fit perfectly across his shoulders. Kanaya had asked for Karkat’s help with the measurements - he had a good eye for dimensions, but she suspected he might have actually measured Dave in his sleep. Karkat was very precise like that.

“Let me button you up,” she said, keeping her voice very calm and low. She started at his throat, laying her palm on the side of his neck. There was the faintest trace of her fangs still there. She buttoned carefully down his chest, and only stopped near the knee. He had elegant calves, she’d always thought so. She would have to shorten the dress slightly. The red socks he was wearing clashed with the green horribly, so she tapped each foot and he let her remove the socks.

She needed to start thinking about boots for him.

She stayed on the floor, and observed him. He looked dignified, even with the bare feet and sunglasses. The slouch was gone.

“What would you have done if I’d said no?” he asked her, his fingers ghosting across her horns, like usual.

“It didn’t occur to me,” she said. “You are quite dependable when it comes to granting requests.”

“Oh.”

A flash of inspiration: “But I suppose I would have asked Roxy to help.”

“Oh?”

“You have inherited your mother’s build.”

Too much? Not too much. He pulled his left leg back a little, a fighting stance, a lovely pose.

“You’re right,” he mumbled. “I wouldn’t say no to you.” He held his hand out to her, helping her stand. 

“I know,” she said. “You like to help.” 

“That’s me. Santa’s little helper.”

“Is Human Santa known for his aptitude for fashion?”

“Sure, in some cultures. You’ve got the uniform all figured out.” He nodded at her ensemble. “Just add some fur to that red thing and you’re good to go.”

“I know you love red things, Dave.” She smoothed her skirt down on her knees. 

“I’m down with the green too,” he blurted. 

“And it looks lovely on you.”

He licked his lips. 

“It reminds me of something,” he said. Like a hungry beachdweller, he had thrown in a hook.

“Maybe it was some photo you’ve seen?” She managed to make it entirely bland. “Let me put the belt on, hold still.”

He did hold still.

“Is this l’art pour lols or did you make it for someone?” The belt was a very nice fit, as glossy as his shades.

“For someone.”

“Oh.” A moment’s hesitation. “Cool! I’m trying to picture someone with enough gumption to commission a dress from a Creator. Is it a beauty queen? A carapacian beauty queen? A capitalist? Oh, is it one of Jane’s business partners?”

“No. I intend to keep this dress in the family.”

More blood rushed to his face. “It’s for Roxy?”

“Not really her style, is it?”

“I mean, it could be. If you’d made it pink or white.”

“Mm.”

She smoothed his hair back from his face.

“Okay,” he said. “I give up. Is it for me?”

“Of course it is.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sweet and you’re pretty, when you’re wearing your mother’s dress.”

“ _Jesus_ , Kanaya.”

“It isn’t really her dress, of course. Like my Halloween costume, it is inspired by a dress we alchemized from Rose’s memories, and I modified it to suit you. Rose’s version was white, for laboratory use - you’ve seen it in Rose’s dreambubbles, haven’t you? - and it had exactly a hundred buttons, because in this matter, Rose is not an entirely objective observer.”

“Is Rose, I mean,” he fiddled with his sleeves. They were too long, but Kanaya thought that might work just fine for him. “She’s cool with all this?”

“Of course. I obtained permission from everyone involved, and they gave it gladly. They like it when you’re happy.”

“Cool.”

“And pretty.”

“ _Kanaya._ ”

She guided him to stand in front of her mirror. He took his shades off, turned around once, put them back on with delicate precision. He let her place a hand on the middle of his back, correcting his posture.

“How much of this is based on Rose’s notes about my dirty secrets?” he asked, never looking away from his reflection.

“She’s my wife, Dave. Half of her invasive psychosexual research is legally mine. But speaking of dirty - the dress needs to be hand-washed. Karkat will probably volunteer, but I expect you to do it.”

“Y-okay.”

“I know you will take good care of it.”

“Sure.”

“You always take really good care of presents.”

He bowed his head. His hair was only just long enough for her to clip on a sweet floral ornament. It was faintly octopoid - Rose had donated it to him. Kanaya was fairly sure Dave knew that.

She brought her hands down his sides, brushing across his ribs.

“Do you like it?” It was entirely for his benefit, this time.

“I look like a million bucks,” he said.

“An entire boonbuck,” she agreed. She pushed him down a little, kissed the top of his head. 

Kissed his nape, the short soft hair there exactly like Rose’s.

“Ooh, Mrs Lalonde,” he said. She could feel the heat in his face, in his voice. “Is this a seduction?”

“I’ve slept in your pile, and let you touch my throat,” she answered. The next dress she made him would have a more challenging neckline. “And that was while I was drinking from _your_ throat. How could you possibly be more seduced than that?”

“I mean, yeah, that’s a fair point,” he said, and leaned back against her. “But that was pale, and this is – okay, still pretty pale, but when you dress me up and pat me down, and tell me I’m the prettiest girl you ever did see, my earth human brain turns ninety degrees toward the concupiscent quadrant, like a damn compass shifting north.”

“Does it,” said Kanaya.

“And speaking of shifting north, and earth human organs, you are, like, aware, of certain things that are going on with me right now. Below this very sexy belt.”

“Am I,” said Kanaya.

“If you’re not, I swear to Jesus and also his mama, I’m going to sink through your floor boards and you’re gonna have to excavate me. Karkat can lend you a trowel.”

Kanaya put her hands around his waist. She was married to the eldritch master of human innuendo: she had been trained for this situation.

“We’ve already talked about stains, Dave,” she said. “I am sure you can handle any problems that arise.”

He groaned softly.

She kissed his cheek. It was as good as a pap, for the humans in her family.

“Is there anything else you’d like?” she said. “I already got Karkat to transportalize your camera - Rose thought you might like to have it.”

“Shit,” he said. “I do, I need it.”

She patted his shoulder, and felt for the kitchen. She would bring his camera, and perhaps something to eat. For him, not her. She was sure they would see to her own hunger, later in the evening. Right now, she wanted to give him a moment alone with the mirror.

“You do look like her,” she said, looking back from the door. “From what I’ve seen.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Thank you. Later, when I stop going out of my mind with whatever the hell all these feelings are, I’m gonna write an ode about your sneaky vamp planning skills.”

“I will make sure to pin it on the hunger trunk,” she promised, and closed the door on his soft breath of laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to **daniomalley** for the extremely well-timed sartorial advice! :D
> 
> The title is from _Mommy_ by Missy Elliott - a really satisfying writing song.


End file.
